Cathy's eyebrows perked up. ToC Mrs. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused. Why aren’t you folded up clean in lavender—as every young woman ought to be? What have you been doing with yourself?. And, come what will, I'll balk him of the satisfaction of hanging me. Indeed, I've heard him say that, but for his wife, he would shelter her under his own roof.
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